Hi,
This is Theresa Conte and today I'd like to share a poem with you called The Shape Grief Takes by Mary Ann Byrne and Spirit of a Hippie.
There is no right or wrong way to grieve,
No map,
No timetable etched in stone.
Some days grief spills in tears,
Other days it settles quietly in the corners of the soul,
Soft as a shadow,
Almost invisible to the world.
It may rise as anger,
Hot,
Wild,
Consuming.
It may come as confusion or as exhaustion that washes over us like a tide.
Some of us hold memories close,
Finding solace in tender recollections.
Others drift toward silence,
Toward solitude,
Where the heart has room to breathe,
To ache,
To remember.
Even within one heart,
Grief moves in waves.
What feels gentle today may strike tomorrow with the force of a storm.
One moment we move through the world,
Carrying our days almost with ease.
The next,
A scent,
A song,
An empty room,
Recalls the presence now gone and the air fractures.
If we meet ourselves with tenderness,
With patience through the challenging days,
With kindness through the darker ones,
Grief becomes not a burden but a doorway,
Not a path to forgetting but a way to live again with softness,
With memory,
And with the quiet strength of a love transformed.
Thank you so much for listening.
If today's poem spoke to you,
Please do leave a comment and share your experience and what the poem means to you.
Thank you so much.
Wishing you the most wonderful day.
